Gate of Horn
by laurose
Summary: Mamoru begins to come back


disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiss and others

beta'd by Sybil Rowan

* * *

Omi decided it was all Yohji's fault. If Yohji didn't have such an indiscriminate taste in girlfriends, he would never have taken up with the voluptuous but omni-credulous Mariko, with her talk of ur-zodiacs and vibes and past lives.

"Omi?"

And if Yohji wasn't so unpunctual, he would never have left Mariko waiting in the Koneko's living room while he was primping. It was only natural and polite, and not at all deserving of punishment, to talk with her and let try out her theory of astrology on him ("Ascendant signs are far more important than the Establishment allows. Now you're obviously Sagittarius ascendant.").

"Omi!"

Which had led to the astrology of past lives, past lives. Which led to - things got a bit mistier here, as if they hadn't been muddled enough – Casting Your Mind Back in Sincere Spirit. Omi did wonder if a dispassionate observer might not have thought he was just a little to blame, to think himself immune to ordinary temptation. After all, a lot of people had found themselves persuaded of sillier religions because of overpowering emotional need, and he was certainly in emotional need. A few blurred images leaving everything to the observer, a few platitudes so broad in meaning they meant nothing at all, and his lively mind had constructed a past life for itself, with all the things lacking in the present.

"Omi!" Not Ken's voice, this time, but a deeper one. Omi blinked away afterimages of last night's bright dreams and looked around at the two sitting at the kitchen table. Aya said, "I think whatever breakfast was, it has been adequately sterilised."

Omi surveyed breakfast, which was hopelessly lost, and the saucepan, which was certainly badly strayed. He supposed it had been miso soup, because it usually was miso soup. You'd think by now he could make miso soup automatically.

Aya and Ken looked at each other. Aya said, "I'm not a good cook, but I can handle a box of pancake mix. Why don't you two soak that in the laundry while I muddle through it?" Not exactly subtle, but then Aya didn't do subtle.

Ken neither. While they squirted something of every cleaner they had into the sink with the pan _flamb__é_ he blurted, "Omi, why are you wandering around like – like you lost something? I know school plus shop gets a bit much for you - "

"It's not school or work, Ken-kun."

From habit Ken looked around the laundry for listeners. "Is it work work?"

"No." Except everything was, wasn't it? And now he had memories of what it was like not to live with his life tailored around One Important Thing. Or rather, Omi told himself, what he fantasised it would be like. No one's life was really that idyllic.

Ken waited a bit, then said, "You know, the rest of us spend a night away from the Koneko occasionally. Last week Teruji-kun invited you to his house - "

"I can't return those invitations."

"If that's a butt out, fine. But you can't be the only kid who for some reason can't invite people back to his place."

Omi opened his mouth as if to point out something painfully obvious, then closed it. It was true. Persia's emphasis in not getting involved with civilians could in itself draw attention. A more conscientious social service worker would have been on their neck years ago. He said, "I need to think about that." Then something made him add, perhaps it was the dream-Omi, "You would be my friend if I was someone different, wouldn't you?"

It wasn't surprising Ken didn't understand that question, Omi didn't understand it himself. Or perhaps he understood it better than Omi did. He looked into Omi's eyes and said, "I'm Omi's friend. I think I'd always resent someone who took Omi from me." He ruffled Omi's hair. Omi smoothed it with a reflexive scowl. "It happens. People change, they get a new job - " his voice faltered " - or new friends and their old friends don't like it."

Omi opened his mouth to say something cheering, then realised that for once there was nothing Ken needed to be cheered up about. So, Omi was having a few dreams. If he told Ken about them, the older boy would simply laugh and tell him to forget them.

_Gardens with huge flowers, loving brothers as tall as trees, a beautiful woman reaching out to him. "Mamo-chan." _

Or Ken might be sorry for him, which would be worse. He'd think Omi was just wishing up this past life.

In either event he wouldn't take it seriously. Omi took it seriously. Even if the loving family was complete imagination, the imagination was about things worth taking seriously.

He remembered, almost against his will, a few intense on-line conversations he'd had with Nagi Naoe. Nagi might not believe it, but he would take it seriously. He could talk to Nagi.

He looked in Ken's trusting hazel eyes, soothing him with smiles and words that Omi was just the same as yesterday. Ken would believe it, because it must be true. How could a few dreams, true or fantasy, change someone? And how could the memory of a loving family harm, even if imagined?

So why did Omi feel this sense of _loss_?


End file.
